


Blend

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: Families of Choice, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship and tea leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blend

**Author's Note:**

> Misery loves company. And tea.

A cup of raktajino, double sweet and strong is placed in front of her in Ten Forward.

“Come on, try this. It's good.” Will settles into the chair opposite, and blows on his own cup to cool it.

“It might be Klingon coffee, but you can't tell me that Worf drinks this stuff.” Her laughter is light and easy, and it dissolves some of the lingering awkwardness left over from the crew's recent encounter with polywater introxication.

“It's not really his sort of thing,” Will admits, indicating the drink in front of her. “I got into it when I was on the _Potemkin_ and I had to stay awake for double shifts at the helm."

Deanna takes a cautious sip, fighting back the urge to grimace at the sharp taste.

Will leans in closer, forgetting distance in his eagerness. “At least it's not tea.” His smile is mischievous, and Deanna laughs, remembering.

In the early days of their courtship Deanna had taken Will to many tea houses on Betazed: tea was something the introspective Betazoids took very seriously, as they insisted it allowed for the deepest kind of thinking. He initially didn't have the heart to tell her that he couldn't stand tea. It was only after attending a banquet where ten different types of tea were served with the ten courses that Will told her he never wanted to see a cup of tea again.

She senses the hazy memory in his mind, soft at the edges but very fond nonetheless; it's touching for her to see he still treasures it. It's a peace offering of sorts, and the start of something more like a real friendship between the two of them.

Deanna chokes back the rest of the raktajino and then talks Will into trying a mild mint tea on the basis it'll help him sleep better. He doesn't like it, but he drinks it anyway, and she thinks how little things change: they still care for each other, but they've decided it's something they can live with.

 

*

 

After he nearly dies it's Valerian root tea, served in a glass tumbler with a slice of lemon and a double-strength sleeping draught dissolved in the mixture.

“I'd kill for something caffeinated.” Will raises his head from the pillow with a grumpy expression when he sees the beverage in her hands.

There's steel in Deanna's gaze as she holds out the cup. “Katherine's orders. You're recovering from a virus that almost destroyed your brain. Lots of fluids, nothing dehydrating. And rest. This will help you rest. I mixed something into it.”

“Well the good doctor did save my life, so I guess I can't ignore her too much.”

“I have a whole replicator file of tea recipes.” Her smile is sweet but deadly. “I've left them for you.”

“How thoughtful.” Will gulps back a swallow of tea, spluttering. “Well, it's an acquired taste, for sure.”

“Maybe this will improve things.” Impulsively, she climbs into bed beside him, tucking the blanket over them both.

“My head hurts.” He groans and snuggles into her side; Deanna suppresses a laugh.

She sighs. “You're such a baby when you're ill.”

“What did you just call me?” Will's voice is faint, somehow far away, his eyes already closing.

“Hush.” Deanna strokes his hair, and tries to read a book with an uncomfortably heavy Will slumped against her. At least he's sleeping and not complaining: that's a small mercy.

Over the next few days, there are many cups of tea in Will's quarters, and excuses from Deanna as to why she finds it easier to work in there: the excuses are easier than admitting that she just needs to remind herself that he's still there.

In six days he's back on the bridge. She continues to bring him cups of various restorative herbal brews; they go undrunk, but she knows he appreciates it all the same.

 

*

 

Uttaberry tea with honey, mint and lemon is the tea of choice after Worf's spinal surgery, when she and Will find themselves sitting on the floor of an empty cargo bay, in the welcoming low light.

The tears on her cheeks might be expected, but they shame her. While she feels relief at Worf's recovery, the primary reason for her crying isn't that she's glad to have her friend back: she's relieved she doesn't have to raise Alexander.

There was no way she would have let that little boy down, but she wasn't ready to be a mother. Sweetly, Will had agreed to help her as much as he could, and while she knows he would have, it would have changed their friendship in ways they couldn't even imagine.

It's better this way, but she still feels guilty for being so afraid, for not being the calm, dependable friend that Worf still believes she is.

She barely notices Will move away until he returns with two glass mugs of tea, setting them on the floor.

Smelling the familiar fragrance of the Betazoid berries, Deanna says, “You hate this tea. It's my mother's favourite.”

His expression is gentle. “I know. But you like it. It reminds you of home, and I think you could use a little home right now.” He sits down and wraps an arm around her, pulling her close.

The tea is hot and sweet as it slips down her throat, and Will's arm around her is warm and anchoring. Incongruous though it is, sitting on the floor of a cold cargo bay feels more like home than anything has in a while.

 

*

 

It's been a week, and apart from duty shifts, Will has been avoiding her; that should hurt more than it does, she thinks, but she knows what it cost him to tell her about Soren in the first place.

Sensing his dismay when she asks to come into his quarters _does_ hurt, but at least he lets her in.

“I know you don't want me to be here,” Deanna says carefully, perching on the edge of the couch, “but I thought you might need a friend.”

“Why?” His laugh is bitter. “You must have known this wouldn't end well. Apparently everyone did, except for me.” Will looks down at the PADD in his hand, trying to avoid her eyes, but it doesn't work, and he looks up to find her patient gaze still fixed on his.

“That's beside the point. I know she mattered.”

“You matter, okay?” he says quietly, and reaches for her hand. “You matter.”

Deanna squeezes his hand. “I'll make the tea, shall I?”

Will nods, staring out of the viewer into the blankness of warp space.

“Surprise me.”

For a change she makes Terran Earl Grey, with a side of sympathy and more milk than Captain Picard would approve of.

 

 

*

 

Being a forced guest on board the _Khazara_ feels like a distant memory already, like something she did in another life. It's everyone else who can't seem to stop making a big deal about it.

Deanna has allowed Will to follow her around in the hour since her discharge from sickbay. It's only mildly irritating, and she can tell that he _needs_ to do it to remind himself that she's okay. He's waiting for her to tell him how she really feels, but she can't do that: she doesn't really know, and also, if she had to admit how scared she was, she'd probably never feel safe again.

“It's rather fascinating, their passionate nature.” Her eyes light up while she calmly describes her interactions with her Romulan crewmates. “I didn't care for Commander Toreth, but she had strong personal convictions, and I respected that.”

Will fiddles with a stray thread on his uniform and says nothing, probably because he doesn't trust himself to say anything.

“Oh! I forgot,” Deanna says animatedly, rising from her chair with sudden energy. “There was this tea we drank. Commander Toreth would often have a cup on the bridge. It's quite harsh on the palate at first, but after a moment, you can taste citrus, and something a little bit like cinnamon. It's delicious. Strangely enough, that's the thing I remember the most clearly. The taste of that tea.”

Will takes a deep breath, and she can feel that he's shaking beneath his skin from trying to hold back every word. There's quiet agony in his silence, because he could easily have lost her, and she knows the implications of that better than he does.

“Please,” she says softly _,_ hoping he understands that this is the best she can do right now.

He nods. “Go ahead. Don't let me stop you. I've got some work to do, anyway, so I'll just sit here and do it.” Will types furiously at his PADD, she puzzles over molecular structures of tea, and they don't say anything more to one another, but she knows and he knows that she doesn't want him to leave.

It takes nine attempts for Deanna to get the replicator to make a close approximation of Romulan _kaol_ tea. Drinking it is a strangely dissociative experience, but not unpleasant, like a half-remembered dream.

Will refuses to even try it; that's not surprising, really.

 

*

 

“I can't believe it's gone,” he tells her, slumped on the floor at her feet, working on one of the many reports Starfleet Command will be wanting to explain the destruction of their ship, their _home._

She wants to tell him to stop and rest, but she has her own reports about the crew's well-being to complete, and in the end, working is just about the only thing they can do right now to hold it all together.

Deanna's quarters on the _USS Farragut_ are sparse, devoid of all the little touches that made them her own. The bright silk scarf she'd given to Tasha, books and jewellery Will had given her all that time ago on Betazed, when they were everything to each other; they were objects she rarely looked at, but she needed them to be there. A world where those things don't exist makes no sense to her.

“I'm so tired, Will.” She puts her head in her hands, rubs at her eyes as if it will make a difference after twenty-nine hours without sleep.

“Raktajino?” he quips.

“Even life-threatening exhaustion wouldn't tempt me to try that again.”

Will makes a face, squints at the text on his PADD that still holds no meaning for him after repeated readings; it's starting to swim in front of his eyes.

“Your tea's getting cold,” she points out, turning back to the crew file on her PADD.

“Right.” Will lays down his work, reaches for the cup (Vulcan spiced tea: his choice) and leans back against Deanna's legs. Her fingers rake through his hair, applying soothing pressure to his scalp: it's equally grounding for her, to concentrate on something other than the fraught emotional state of the crew.

“I like this one,” remarks Deanna, taking her hands away to retrieve her own cup from the table. “I'll add it to my replicator files.”

They finish the tea, and Will says, “We'll try one of those new tea houses in San Francisco when we get back to Earth. I hear they have varieties from all over the Alpha and Beta quadrants.”

Uncertainty catches in her throat, because they have no idea where they will be reassigned, or if they'll even serve together again, and all she can think about are all the infusions they haven't brewed yet: matchas, oolongs, white teas, Klingon and Ktarian and Andorian leaves. She knows that Will's suggestion is his way of saying all the things he can't tell her, that she'll still be a part of his life and he'd never take their friendship for granted.

There's little guarantee of anything in these upside-down times, but Deanna allows herself to be reassured by the thought that some things are certain.

She smiles. “I'd like that.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Related episodes, in order: _The Naked Now, Shades of Grey, Ethics, The Outcast, Face of the Enemy, Generations (film)_.


End file.
